


Late Night Talks

by BorkMork



Category: Clone High
Genre: F/M, Just two nerds drinking milkshakes, Nice and Relaxing, One Shot, Post-Canon, Swearing, This one-shot has been collecting dust in my WIPS, so might as well give it to yall!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorkMork/pseuds/BorkMork
Summary: The Grassy Knoll had been the sight for some really, fucked-up shit. There were riots, protests, some guy set himself on fire once, it had been gossiped about for all Joan knew. It was just the typical stuff you would find in Exclamation, USA, where everyone had their own story that no one was interested in that somehow tied themselves together up in the end. If that had to include hookers, aliens, or government conspiracies, then they would find a way to barge into something simple like petty high school drama. Clean and simple.The thing, however, was that the town could be a site for the mundane. People drank, ate food, and that would be it. The day would just be a normal, un-chaotic day, and some fate allowed it to be like that. That was the only reason she could give herself to her current situation.-Joan and JFK after Prom, drinking milkshakes on a late night.
Relationships: Joan of Arc/JFK (Clone High)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 205





	Late Night Talks

The Grassy Knoll had been the sight for some really, fucked-up shit. There were riots, protests, some guy set himself on fire once, it had been gossiped about for all Joan knew. It was just the typical stuff you would find in Exclamation, USA, where everyone had their own story that no one was interested in that somehow tied themselves together up in the end. If that had to include hookers, aliens, or government conspiracies, then they would find a way to barge into something simple like petty high school drama. Clean and simple.

The thing, however, was that the town could be a site for the mundane. People drank, ate food, and that would be it. The day would just be a normal, un-chaotic day, and some fate allowed it to be like that. That was the only reason she could give herself to her current situation.

Joan was drinking a milkshake. Strawberry, infused with coffee — the good stuff. Glancing beside her, she watched her date struggle in his seat. He was hunched over the counter still in his prom suit, ordering his milkshake, watching the waitress sprinkle apricots into the cream in concerning amounts.

“Make it silky smooth,” he told the woman, a sly grin on him. “A man like me needs to taste as sweet as my dessert tonight.”

Joan took a sip, watching him lean more and more onto the table, wondering if he will fall. “I don’t think that’s healthy,” she mused.

Kennedy glanced at her, dazed at what she said. Or was that just a normal look for him?

“It’s perfectly healthy to taste sweet like a dessert,” he said, already spoon-deep into his shake.

“No. Diabetics can disagree on that.”

“Are they the gatekeepers of jizz or something? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Nope, I just mean they’re—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Kennedy leaned toward her, voice low in a whisper.

“I’ll fight one. I would. If that means I get to give you my own, milky goodness.”

Joan choked, hacking at her chest until the world seemed lighter. Well, shit. She could’ve died from a strawberry. Because this man thought milk was a sexy substitute for cum. This was already going so well.

“God,” she groaned, trying not to laugh. “We already fucked, how horny are you?”

“Eh.” Kennedy sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Well, it’s a habit. I’m not really horny right now.”

“Oh.” Well, that was a change. Joan had noticed it actually, that he grew more open when he’s nervous, serious. One of the few reasons she slept with him; there was something nice knowing that he cared, that despite his flirting he knew when to stay quiet and listen. It was better than having someone talk over her, thinking they knew what she wanted. “So you just tell people you want sex because you made it an impulse?”

“It’s, er uh, complicated. But we can go with that!” He looked happy at least. But now the curiosity is setting in, and Joan couldn’t help but lean further, to observe the way he fiddled his fingers, at how his little cocky gaze died off somewhere amid their talk. “Don’t want to jerk the mood. Prom got really, really weird.”

“Is it the government agents or the fact I yelled at Abe?”

Kennedy hummed, nose scrunched in concentration. “Both. Mostly the Abe thing because holy shit, you told him what for.”

She laughed. “I did, didn’t I?”

“When a man’s a cunt, you gotta do what’s needed. Which means,” he went serious again, “a kick in the balls, _or_ an emotional kick in the balls by your best friend.” Kennedy smiled at her. Genuine, open. “You did good on the emotional part.”

“Thank you.” Joan couldn’t help a grin too. “That actually means a lot to me.”

“Sure thing, toots.” Kennedy smiled at her, easing more into his arms, resting in them. Joan wasn’t surprised. It was midnight after all. “You deserve more than what that Abe guy gave ya’. You’re smart, a beauty, some lucky guy’ll probably worship your feet if they saw you. That’s weird though.”

Silence.

“I don’t judge,” he said.

Joan chuckled. She took another sip from her milkshake, loving the taste of strawberries on her tongue. “I’m curious, JFK.”

“What’s to be curious about?”

“Remember when I dressed up as a dude for that basketball match?”

If Joan didn’t know any better, she thought the guy was already sweating bullets. “Y-yeah? The time you dressed up as that John Dark, I heard of it. Ididn’tfindyouhotoranything, what makes you think that?”

“I didn’t imply that.”

Kennedy stared at her, still sweating. “Your eyes said it.”

Joan squinted, leaning into him. “Did you just admit that I looked hot as a guy?”

“You”—the man was flushed to his ears—”you looked really good! What’s the matter with that?”

She continued to giggle into the counter. In spite of the evening’s events, she felt lighter, a lot better in fact. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that nobody told me that before.”

“That you’re hot?”

“No, that I looked hot as a guy.”

“Hey,” Kennedy rubbed his face, groaning a little. “It was a good disguise I tell you.”

Joan smirked. “Sure.”

“The mustache oozed sex.”

“Okay.”

“Really, really oozed se—”

“Kennedy, you can stop now.”

“Sorry.”

Despite that, the two burst into laughter. It was nice to laugh at random shit, at stuff that didn’t seem to be much now that they thought about it. They were just laughing at normal stuff. They didn’t have to do something big or grand; milkshakes were enough to set the mood, and reassure her that Kennedy wasn’t going to flake out.

And that was reassuring. Very reassuring.

He stood up, stretching a bit with exaggerated groans. “Welp. Time to go.”

Joan blinked, trying to find a clock. Oh, wait. The Grassy Knoll didn’t have one. “We’re going? I thought the Knoll was twenty-four-seven?”

“It is, I just have a curfew. Don’t want my gay dads to worry.”

“Oh,” she smiled to herself, standing up. “Right. I’ll be off then too.”

Kennedy cocked his head, furrowing his eyebrows a little. “You’re not coming with me?”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” she said. “You’ve already done so much.”

He shook his head. Grabbing his milkshake, he placed a tip for the waitress, who took it with a tired gesture. “You’re my prom date, Joan. A gentleman takes all his ladies home, always.”

Joan looked at him, and for a moment, she saw it. There was the sincerity again, true as the man could be. Without a moment of hesitation, she followed him into the parking lot, watching the night sky twinkle as he opened the door, getting her comfy as they started their road home.

When Kennedy drove, Joan rested against the window, feeling the crisp weather through the glass. And somehow, the calmness was still there. The moon wasn’t on fire, nor blown up, nor flushed blood red. It was a casual day in Exclamation, and that was the baffling part after everything they’d been through. After every insurrection, conspiracy, and top-notch scheme this poor town could handle. But Joan decided to see that as a good thing, one she didn't have to run away from.

The night didn’t have to be scary, or weird, or batshit insane. Sometimes the night could be normal, healing almost, and that was enough.


End file.
